Flotsam Jack
by Civeta
Summary: Crap. I'm so, so pathetic. :cries: Please don't waste your brain cells on this travesty of a story. Go find something better to read.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This is my first attempt at fanfic, so please let me know how I'm doing. ( By the way, the boredom in this first scene is based on fact: I really was once so bored that I started singing and sparrow- walking, but I wasn't on a deserted island. I was in the middle of a crowded airport. Yeah. I endured many odd stares and security checks.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters, so please don't sue me. **************************************************************************** ****************  
The Caribbean was a lovely place to be. The palm trees swayed in the  
  
tropical breeze, the waves lapped gently against the shore, and the sunsets were  
  
better than anywhere else in the world.  
  
And I was bored. Insanely, out-of-my-mind bored.  
  
I lay on my bed, my arms and legs outstretched, staring blankly at the  
  
ceiling. I blinked. I took a breath. I blinked again. A fly buzzed in lazy circles  
  
above my head, then settled on the windowsill, as if my gaze had somehow  
  
infected it with my boredom. My parents had taken the boat to the mainland to  
  
do some grocery shopping and other miscellaneous errands. They had left five  
  
hours ago. Technically there were things to do on the island, but I was in one of  
  
those states of mind where anything I did was excruciatingly boring and/or  
  
frustrating, and lying on my back gazing off into space was only slightly less so.  
  
All of a sudden I stood up, resolved to do something, anything. Then I sat  
  
back down; fell, actually, as all the blood rushed to my head. After a moment I  
  
stood up again, slowly and carefully this time, and walked over to my messy  
  
suitcase where I pulled out my bikini bottom. At least if I lay outside on the  
  
beach I would get tan while being bored.  
  
I spent ten minutes looking for my bikini top and finally found it stuffed  
  
behind the headboard of the bed. I put it on and meandered outside, singing  
  
"What do you do with a drunken sailor" under my breath. Since there was no  
  
one else on my tiny little island, I decided that now was the perfect time to  
  
practice my Jack Sparrow walk. As I swaggered and swished along the beach,  
  
my ennui began to ebb. Of all the places to be bored stiff, this island was really  
  
one of the better ones. The sand on the beach was so soft between my toes, the  
  
sky was a perfect shade of blue, the water was a brilliant red.  
  
I stopped suddenly, trying to get my brain to work. Water.red. What's  
  
wrong with this picture? Then I saw the sodden lump that was the man, and the  
  
world snapped back into place. I rushed over to his side, grabbed his shirt, and  
  
hauled him out of the water before the next wave hit. When we reached dry sand  
  
I pushed him onto his back, and literally squeaked with surprise. His face, the  
  
sash, the beads, the bandanna.the man didn't just look like Jack Sparrow: he  
  
was Jack Sparrow. As if to confirm this, he opened his eyes blearily; then,  
  
catching sight of me, grinned ear to ear and closed his eyes again.  
  
"Ha! I was right, I did make it to heaven.Gibbs owes me five shillings."  
  
He lapsed back into unconsciousness, and it was only then that I noticed the  
  
disturbingly large, red gash across his chest. For a moment I stood overcome by  
  
the cruel irony of finally meeting my favorite character ever, only to have him  
  
die ten seconds after we met. Then I pulled myself together; he was not going to  
  
die, god damn it, or I'd have to go back to contemplating ceiling tiles. Leaving  
  
him on the beach, I ran back to my cabin and frantically raided my mother's  
  
TravelSmart first aid kit for antiseptic and a roll of bandages.  
  
As I raced back to the shore, I half expected him to have vanished while I  
  
was gone; I mean, honestly, how likely was it that a fictional 17th century pirate  
  
would just happen to wash up like flotsam on the beach? But he was still lying  
  
there, looking for all the world like some weird tourist trying to get a tan with his  
  
clothes still on. I knelt beside him, and was trying to figure out a way to clean his  
  
wound without tearing his gorgeous shirt when he woke up again.  
  
"So love, what's an angel like you doing in a place like this?" he  
  
murmured, reaching towards me with his long brown fingers. Then he gave a  
  
yelp and jerked back his arm as his cut reopened and began to bleed again.  
  
"You're hurt," I said, trying to get him to lie still, "but you're not dead.  
  
Now sit back and let me help you." He looked at me with narrowed eyes, then  
  
his gaze moved over the island and finally rested on the wound on his chest.  
  
"Not dead?" he asked hopefully. When I shook my head he grinned.  
  
"Spiffywell. In that case, love, have you got any rum?" I couldn't help myself; I  
  
began laughing hysterically. Jack beamed winningly up at me all the while, a  
  
begging puppy-dog expression on his face. When I finally regained control of  
  
myself, I had to squash his hopes.  
  
"Sorry, no rum," his face fell, "but I'm sure there's some on the  
  
mainland," his eyes lit up, "I'll see what I can do later. Right now we have to  
  
look at this cut." After examining the slash closely, I sadly concluded that there  
  
was no way to save the shirt. Jack protested loudly when I ripped it, but after I  
  
convinced him of the necessity he contented himself with grumbling under his  
  
breath. When the shirt was off, I was relieved to see that the cut was not very  
  
deep at all. I unscrewed the cap from the bottle of antiseptic and rubbed some on  
  
his chest. Jack wasn't happy.  
  
"What the bloody hell do you think you're dong?!" he yelled, clutching  
  
protectively at his chest.  
  
"We have to clean it out or it'll get infected," I explained.  
  
"Like hell! I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, I don't get inflected!" In the end, I  
  
had to give up with the antiseptic, and just wrapped the bandages around his  
  
chest instead. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters, so please don't sue me.  
  
**************************************************************************** **************** It was about then that reality caught up with me. I was on a beach, alone,  
  
with a shirtless and not-dead Jack Sparrow. I felt giddy for a moment, then my  
  
cynical (realistic) side began getting suspicious. What if he was just some weird  
  
sicko who dressed up like popular movie characters to prey on young girls?  
  
Then I took a second look at his clothing. It was definitely nothing like any  
  
clothing you could buy today; even the cloth looked hand-woven. And there was  
  
no arguing with the fact that he had both the face and the mannerisms of Jack  
  
Sparrow. Suddenly, I decided that he definitely was Jack Sparrow, and no one  
  
could have convinced me otherwise.  
  
On Jack's insistence I helped him get to his feet, though I had the feeling  
  
that he didn't really need my help. He put his arm around my waist and together  
  
we walked slowly back to the cabin.  
  
"So you live here, eh?" asked Jack as we were walking.  
  
"No, I'm just here for vacation. My parents are here too, but at the  
  
moment they're on the mainland. Speaking of which," I said, glancing at him,  
  
"um, they, uh, don't like pirates." In reality, I knew my parents wouldn't believe  
  
he was the real Captain Jack Sparrow, and even if they did they wouldn't be  
  
happy keeping him in the house. Jack looked affronted and spread his arms  
  
wide.  
  
"What's not to like? I'm rich, I'm handsome, and I'm Captain Jack  
  
Sparrow!"  
  
"And you're positively the most modest pirate in the Spanish Main," I  
  
added wryly. He nodded.  
  
"That too. Wait," he said, turning to me, "If you're not a native, why  
  
aren't you wearing any clothes? Not that I'm objecting," he added, staring at me  
  
most improperly, "but, well, I'm just curious."  
  
"This is more than a lot of people wear," I protested, blushing slightly.  
  
Jack's eyebrows shot up.  
  
"Really?" I nodded, and he smiled in bliss, but didn't say anything more  
  
until we reached the cabin. He opened the door and we went inside. I offered  
  
him a seat at the table, but he insisted that he needed to lie down, and draped  
  
himself across the futon.  
  
"Well, as I was saying," I said to Jack as I searched through the cupboards  
  
for something for him to eat, "my parents aren't fond of pirates, so when they get  
  
back it would probably be best if we hid you somewhere out of sight." I found  
  
some peanut butter and jelly and started making Jack a sandwich. "There's a  
  
massive walk-in closet in my room, but I'll have to straighten it up a bit first.  
  
Here," I said, handing him the sandwich and a can of Coke. He sniffed at the  
  
food, then looked at me dubiously.  
  
"What be this?" he asked.  
  
"Peanut butter and jelly. It's good, try it." He took a tiny bite, then his eyes  
  
widened in surprise and he started demolishing the sandwich.  
  
"This is the best food I've had since I commandeered the King's provision  
  
ship. You'd be a great ship's cook. Job's open, if you're interested." I grinned,  
  
watching him examine the Coke. He banged it on the table a couple times, then  
  
ran his fingers over the entire can. Suddenly, a knife appeared in his hand and he  
  
thrust it into the bottom of the can. It exploded, foam spraying everywhere, and  
  
Jack was drenched as he leapt up, yelling and flailing his arms. Not wanting to  
  
laugh in his face again, I quickly opened the fridge and stuck my head in under  
  
the pretext of getting another Coke, though in reality I was just trying to mask  
  
my tortuously silent laughter. As I turned around holding a new Coke, a shaken,  
  
dripping Jack looked at the can with horror.  
  
"Another one? What the hell are those things?"  
  
"They're soda pops," I told him, opening the can with a snap. Jack  
  
jumped.  
  
"Pop is right," he muttered. I handed him the Coke, which he took  
  
gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. Just as he took a sip, with a look of  
  
someone afraid he was ingesting poison, the phone rang. Jack spewed half the  
  
soda across the room, and the other half went up his nose. Dodging Jack, who  
  
was holding his nose and screaming obscenities, I grabbed the phone off the  
  
hook.  
  
"Hello?" I said, praying to God it wasn't my parents.  
  
"Hi sweetie," said my mum. I tried frantically and silently to shut Jack up,  
  
but to no avail. Mother continued, speaking louder over Jack's tirade. "It looks  
  
like your dad and I'll be stuck here for a while. The boat motor cut out halfway  
  
to the mainland and we had to be towed to a repair shop. We probably won't be  
  
able to get back to you for three days or so. Do you think you have enough food  
  
and water?"  
  
"Yeah, I've got loads," I replied, feeling a great bubble of happiness well  
  
up inside me.  
  
"Okay then, take care of yourself, and be careful. I heard on the news that  
  
there could be a storm coming through. And what is that noise?"  
  
"It's just the TV," I said quickly.  
  
"Well, turn it down or you'll impair your hearing. Love you!"  
  
"Love you too, Mum," I said and hung up. I turned around and saw Jack  
  
sitting on the futon, scowling.  
  
"I'm sticking to rum," he said sulkily.  
  
"Fine," I sighed, feeling that it would be pointless to argue. "By the way,  
  
that was my mum. They won't be back for about three days, so we don't have to  
  
worry about the whole hiding thing for a while." Jack looked very confused, his  
  
eyes moving from me to the phone and back again.  
  
"I think I'm missing something here, love." 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters, so please don't sue me.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************  
  
Three hours later, after I had explained telephones, TVs and microwaves  
  
to the best of my ability, Jack and I finally ran out of things to say. The sun had  
  
gone down, and I just then realized that I was still in my bikini and Jack was still  
  
shirtless. I shivered as I stood up from the futon where I had been sitting next to  
  
him.  
  
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm freezing. I'm going to go change.  
  
There's a blanket on the couch if you want it. Would you like to borrow a shirt or  
  
something?" Jack stood up too and began to stretch, then stopped, wincing.  
  
"It is bloody cold. And I wouldn't mind getting out of these for a while,"  
  
he added, making a face at his still-damp trousers. "A pair of pants for tomorrow  
  
would be just corking, thankee." So I went into my room and changed into my  
  
best-looking pajamas (How often do you get a slumber party with Jack  
  
Sparrow?) and then searched through my father's trousers before finally finding  
  
a suitable pair for Jack. I returned to the living room/kitchen, only to discover  
  
Jack busy conducting a thorough search of the cupboards. He turned around  
  
when he heard me enter and beamed widely, waving an almost-full bottle of  
  
amber liquid in my direction.  
  
"Lookee here, you do have rum after all! Pretty old and dusty though.  
  
Probably been behind the fridge for years. Still, " he added merrily, "it just gets  
  
better with age. Like me." He grinned at me, and I laughed appreciatively,  
  
secretly thinking that truer words were never said.  
  
"Whatever you say, captain. I've got your trousers, but I'm not sure  
  
they're the right size." I held them up, and Jack recoiled in disgust.  
  
"Me wear those?! Sorry, love, I'd look like one of Norrington's bloody  
  
soldiers. Thankee, but no, I'd rather sleep in the buff tonight." I nodded and  
  
smiled, trying to remember what 'in the buff' meant. Maybe it was some kind of  
  
pirate slang. Jack smiled back slyly, and we stood there staring at each other for a  
  
few moments. Then his grin grew wider, and he shrugged.  
  
"Well then, if you don't feel like your own bed tonight, that's perfectly  
  
cricket with me," and he started undoing his trousers.  
  
"Wait," I said, thoroughly flustered, "What are you doing?" He raised an  
  
eyebrow at me.  
  
"I told ye I was sleeping in the buff. You had no problem with that a  
  
second ago." I blushed, suddenly recalling my vocabulary.  
  
"No, there's no problem, it's just.I." I trailed off lamely, looking at him  
  
for understanding. He smiled agreeably back at me, though he looked slightly let  
  
down.  
  
"Ah, I see. In that case, I'll escort my lady to her chamber and bid her  
  
goodnight gentleman-like. Maybe later, eh?" I was both relieved and terribly,  
  
awfully disappointed. I managed a "Thank you, Jack," and he took my arm to  
  
lead me down the hallway, but not before carefully stowing his precious rum  
  
somewhere in the futon. When we reached my room, he took one look at the  
  
assorted clothing and souvenirs scattered over the floor, then swept me up into  
  
his arms and carefully stepped across the rubbish field. He deposited me neatly  
  
on my bed, then bent over me.  
  
"Goodnight, love," he said softly, never taking his eyes from mine, "See  
  
you in the morning then, eh?" I reached up and tugged on one of the locks of  
  
hair that was tickling my nose.  
  
"Goodnight, Jack," I replied. He leaned down and kissed me, passionately  
  
yet gently. Then he chuckled and hopped out of the room, turning off the lights  
  
as he went. I turned over in my bed, reflecting that this was quite possibly the  
  
best day of my life, and fell asleep with Jack in my thoughts and a faint savor of  
  
rum in my mouth. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters, so please don't sue me.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************  
  
When I woke up the next morning, it took me a few seconds to remember  
  
why I was so buoyantly happy. Then it all came flooding back: Jack, the Coke, no  
  
parents, the kiss. I lay in bed for a moment, savoring the perfect wonderfulness  
  
of the world. Eventually I got up and dressed, choosing to wear my favorite  
  
khaki shorts and blue spaghetti-strap top. As I entered the kitchen, I belatedly  
  
wondered whether Jack was still in bed or not, and if he wasn't, what he'd be  
  
wearing. My question was answered almost immediately: Jack was sitting at the  
  
table, the blanket wrapped toga-style around his body. He was making peanut  
  
butter and jelly sandwiches, and had smears of Jiffy and strawberry all over his  
  
hands and face. Judging by the stack of about ten or so sandwiches on the table,  
  
he'd been at this for a while.  
  
"Hungry?" I asked. He looked up at me grinned abashedly.  
  
"It's great fun. The peanut butter just spreads so perfectly. You want to  
  
make some?" he offered, handing me a knife. I laughed.  
  
"What the hell," I said, grabbing two slices of bread and the jelly. "You  
  
realize, of course, that we'll have to live off these for the next week or so." Jack  
  
shrugged.  
  
"Suits me fine, love. The way these taste, I wouldn't mind eating them for  
  
the rest of me life." In the end, we ended up making two and a half bread loaves  
  
worth of PB&Js. We each ate one for breakfast and stored the rest in the  
  
refrigerator for lunch, dinner, breakfast, lunch, etc. I helped Jack clean the sticky  
  
mess off his face, then decided it was time to have another look at his cut to make  
  
sure it was healing properly.  
  
"So, do you want me to take a peek at that wound of yours?" I asked him.  
  
"No," he said quickly, his eyes darting to the antiseptic that was still on  
  
the counter near the door. I sighed.  
  
"Jack, when I said 'Do you want me to look at your cut,' what I meant was  
  
'I'm going to take a look at that cut.' Sit down." He flopped onto the futon, an  
  
exasperated look on his face, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like  
  
"women." He undid the top of his toga, which had been held up by what looked  
  
like a sharpened bone of some kind. Trying not to think about Jack wearing  
  
nothing more than a loosely draped blanket, I carefully unwrapped the  
  
bandaging around his chest, wincing when I had to tug it free of encrusted  
  
blood. Sometime last night it had reopened and started to bleed again; probably,  
  
I thought guiltily, when he carried me across my room. I wiped away the excess  
  
blood, then began reaching for the antiseptic when I was stopped short by Jack's  
  
glowering face. Sighing inwardly, I left the antiseptic where it was and turned to  
  
Jack instead.  
  
"Can you lie down for a minute? I need to get a better look at this cut, and  
  
I can't do it while you're sitting up like that." Jack laid back on the futon,  
  
smirking as I bent close over him to examine his injury.  
  
"Well, you're lucky, it isn't infected. The seawater probably helped keep it  
  
clean. What happened, anyway?"  
  
"I don't rightly remember," he said nonchalantly, "One minute I was  
  
having a little rum in my cabin with some, uh, company, and the next minute I  
  
was falling off the edge of the Pearl with wood splinters all around me. I guess I  
  
broke through the rail. Don't know what I was doing on deck, though." His  
  
casual manner surprised me.  
  
"Aren't you worried about your ship?" I asked. He waved his hand,  
  
making a phssaww-ing noise.  
  
"Gibbs'll take care of her. He knows to go back to Tortuga if anything  
  
happens, so I'll meet him there when I feel like it. For the moment, I'm feeling  
  
pretty good about all this. Call it an involuntary vacation, if ye like." Keeping my  
  
doubts to myself, I unrolled a fresh length of bandage and set about rebinding  
  
Jack's chest. As I put my arms around him to secure the bandaging, I couldn't  
  
help noticing how good he smelled. His scent was something of a cross between  
  
leather, saltwater, and rum, and was just as intoxicating as the aforementioned  
  
drink. Before I could be completely overwhelmed, I quickly finished the dressing  
  
and sat back.  
  
"Well, you're done. You can get dressed again, if you want." Jack raised  
  
his eyebrows.  
  
"Dressed with what, love? Me trousers are no better than they were  
  
yesterday." He was certainly right about that; hung across the back of a chair, the  
  
trousers were still dripping water into an ever-growing puddle on the floor.  
  
"Well, you're sure you won't wear my dad's clothes?" I asked without  
  
much hope.  
  
"Sure as sure," he replied firmly.  
  
"I guess I'll stick these in the wash," I said, picking up the trousers  
  
gingerly. "They should be done and dried in about two hours. Can you stand  
  
wearing your, uh, toga until then?" Jack grinned mischievously.  
  
"I think I can manage it." He stood up, the blanket beginning to fall away.  
  
I turned around quickly. A day ago I would have been blushing as well, but by  
  
now I had become accustomed to Jack's immodesty. There was the sound of  
  
fabric against skin, then a second later I felt Jack's hot breath in my ear.  
  
"What now, love?" I wheeled around, and there stood Romanesque Jack  
  
resplendent in a red blanket. Happy yet saddened to see him clothed, I shrugged.  
  
"Well, before you washed up yesterday I spent most of the day in bed, my  
  
brain slowly rotting of boredom. Hopefully today will be more interesting."  
  
"One can only hope," agreed Jack. 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters, so please don't sue me.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************  
  
I racked my brain for fun stuff to do.  
  
"Um, well, we could always go swimming.or maybe that's not the best  
  
idea," I amended, eyeing the new bandage on Jack's chest. "How about just a  
  
walk on the beach while we figure out something else to do?" Jack looked  
  
doubtful for a minute, then perked up.  
  
"Maybe something interesting's washed up on the shore. I'll bet all the  
  
currents lead here. That's why I floated in." Jack made for the door, practically  
  
salivating at the thought of treasure.  
  
"I'll just meet you outside," I called to him, "I've got to put on my bikini."  
  
Jack slowed his egress slightly, just long enough to ask,  
  
"What's a bikini?"  
  
"It's what I was wearing yesterday. I thought I might go for a swim while  
  
you're scouting the beach." Jack did a full 180 and came running back. He stood  
  
next to me with an impish smile on his face. A bit unnerved, I said,  
  
"Uh, I'll just go change then, shall I?" and headed for my room. Jack  
  
followed, so closely behind me that he nearly stepped on my feet twice. When I  
  
reached my bedroom, I turned to close the door only to find Jack already sitting  
  
happily on the bed.  
  
"I thought you were going treasure hunting," I said. His eyes widened  
  
slightly when I said the word 'treasure,' but then he adopted a scandalized look.  
  
"Me go out and leave my lady unescorted? Perish the thought."  
  
"Jack," I said firmly, pointing to the door, "I'm not getting dressed with  
  
you in the room. Out." Jack looked hurt.  
  
"Just thought it'd be fair, love. You've seen me without my shirt." This  
  
was true, and I felt bad for a moment, but not bad enough to let him watch me  
  
change.  
  
"Sorry Jack, but no." I herded him out of the room, my heart squeezing as  
  
I had to shut the door in his innocent face.  
  
"Just yell if you need me, love," he said, his voice muffled through the  
  
oaken planks of the door.  
  
"I'll do that," I called back to him. Fortunately, I remembered where I had  
  
flung my swimsuit the day before, so it wasn't long before I had it mostly on. The  
  
neck tie, as usual, was giving me trouble, constantly catching in my long hair.  
  
Somehow I had managed to tie it with one try last afternoon, which was lucky: I  
  
probably would have exploded if I hadn't. After my eighth unsuccessful try and  
  
the loss of several hairs from my scalp, I gave up. I walked back over to the door  
  
and opened it with one hand, using the other to hold my top in place. Jack was  
  
sitting on the floor across from the door, with his eyes closed and a dreamy smile  
  
on his face. When he heard the door open, he looked up. I smiled tentatively.  
  
"Help?" I asked in a small voice. He beamed and stood up.  
  
"Knew you'd warm up to me. What's the difficulty, love? I don't see any  
  
problem."  
  
"I can't get the straps knotted and the top keeps falling off." Jack looked  
  
politely puzzled.  
  
"The problem.?" I glared at him, and he pretended to suddenly  
  
understand.  
  
"Ah yes, of course. The straps." He moved around behind me and took  
  
the straps from my hands as I held my hair out of the way.  
  
"Bowline or sheepshank?" I heard from behind me. I was mystified.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Bowline or sheepshank?" When I was silent for another moment, he  
  
caught on and explained. "They're knots. Which d'you want?"  
  
"Uh," I said. I'd gotten a book of knots for Christmas once, but I'd never  
  
read more than a few pages. "Whichever you want, I don't care." Jack hesitated  
  
for a minute, then began tying, clarifying as he knotted.  
  
"Bowline's the best for mooring ropes. It's me personal favorite, good and  
  
tight. It ought to hold your.your bikini up like a charm." He finished off the  
  
knot with a flourish, his fingers brushing the back of my neck as he did so.  
  
"There, that'll hold you. Ready now?" I nodded, smiling at him. I held my  
  
hand out for him, hoping that he'd take it. Instead, he grabbed my arm and put it  
  
around his waist while flinging his own arm around my shoulders. We walked  
  
outside together, his fingers dancing up and down my shoulder as he hummed a  
  
tune. When we reached the beach, Jack reluctantly disentangled himself from  
  
me.  
  
"Well love, I'm off. Don't go too far now." I laughed.  
  
"Jack, this island is at most one square mile. I don't think I could escape  
  
you if I tried."  
  
"Oh good," he said, giving me a quick peck, then sauntering off a few feet,  
  
kicking up sand as he went. For a moment I was badly tempted to join him, but  
  
then I began feeling the hot sun beating down on my shoulders and decided that  
  
cool water would be very welcome. I ran splashing into the waves, and amused  
  
myself for about half an hour by swimming and watching Jack dig holes in the  
  
beach. Eventually I grew tired and came out, dripping yet refreshed. I found Jack  
  
busy using a palm frond to sweep the sand, which was flying everywhere. His  
  
hair was coated in sand, as were his shoulders. When he saw me he stopped  
  
sweeping and threw down the branch.  
  
"Well, I think that's enough for today. I must've been right about the  
  
currents. What d'you think?" He held out his hand, and I gasped. Four rings and  
  
a bracelet lay nestled in his palm, glistening gold in the sun.  
  
"You found those?" I asked, entranced. I should probably mention here  
  
that I'm completely in love with gems, pearls, and every kind of precious metal.  
  
Jack beamed proudly.  
  
"Yep. They just popped out of the beach like sand crabs. You want one?" I  
  
did, desperately, but I had to be polite.  
  
"Oh, but they're yours, Jack, you found them. Finder's keepers."  
  
"Aye, and loser's weepers. I savvy, but as they're mine now I can give or  
  
keep them as I please. Pick one, I want ye to have it." I beamed at him and gave  
  
him a massive kiss.  
  
"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" I enthused, now examining the rings.  
  
Jack looked impressed and bemused.  
  
"So that's how to get ye warmed up, eh? Your obsession with treasure is  
  
positively piratical, love." I shot him a grin.  
  
"So I've been told." Then I bent all my attention to choosing a ring. I  
  
must've taken about fifteen minutes to choose, changing my mind whenever I  
  
thought I'd decided. Finally I ended up choosing a gold and ruby ring with  
  
diamond accents, remembering the red water that first alerted me to Jack's  
  
presence.  
  
"I think I'll take this one," I said, lifting the chosen ring out of his hand.  
  
"Good choice, love. Red's a good color for you. But how're ye going to  
  
wear it? It's too big for you." I shrugged.  
  
"They're all too big. I'll have to find some string or something so I can  
  
wear it around my neck." Jack thought for a second, then pulled out a knife he  
  
had somehow concealed in his toga-wrap. He reached up and cut off a small  
  
hank of his long hair and handed it to me.  
  
"I haven't got any string, but will this do?" I took the hair from his hands,  
  
feeling the salt-weathered strands rough with sand between my fingers.  
  
"That's lovely. Thank you," I said softly.  
  
"My pleasure, love," he replied in the same tone. We were both silent for a  
  
few moments, looking deep into each other's eyes. I looked away first, gazing  
  
down at the ring and hair I held in my still-wet hands. 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters, so please don't sue me.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************  
  
"I'll braid this in a minute. Your clothes are probably ready for the dryer  
  
by now. We should go back and check." Jack looked speculative.  
  
"Oh, I don't know. It's a bit hot for trousers. Maybe I'll just run around in  
  
the buff." I laughed, imagining a naked Jack running madly around like a  
  
decapitated chicken.  
  
"I don't think that's a good idea. Imagine the sunburn you could get." Jack  
  
winced.  
  
"Good point. Let's go get my trousers." We meandered back to the cabin,  
  
Jack fitting his new rings onto his fingers and wiggling them experimentally. The  
  
clothes were indeed done when we got back, so I stuffed them in the dryer.  
  
While Jack was being hypnotized by the spinning clothes in the dryer, I hopped  
  
in the shower for a quick rinse, after carefully putting Jack's gifts safely by the  
  
sink. When I was salt-free I reemerged, toweling my damp hair. Seeing that Jack  
  
was still fascinated by the tumbling clothes, I sat cross-legged on the futon and  
  
began braiding the hair Jack had given me. It didn't take too long, and when it  
  
was done I strung the ruby ring onto the braid. The darkness of Jack's hair went  
  
very well with the blood-red ruby.  
  
"Jack," I called. He looked up from the dryer. "Can you help me get this  
  
on?"  
  
"But of course," he said, getting up and climbing onto the futon behind  
  
me. He parted my blond hair out of the way, then looped the braid around my  
  
neck and began tying.  
  
"What knot is it this time?" I asked jokingly. He finished the knot, and I  
  
was about to turn around to face him when I felt his arms wind themselves  
  
around my middle. He put his head on my shoulder and whispered in my ear.  
  
"Love knot," he breathed, giving me a tight squeeze. I nearly melted. I  
  
swiveled my head around and our lips met. We kissed slowly, and one by one  
  
my reservations faded and were gone. Then the dryer buzzed. Jack sighed and  
  
stood up, his hand running up my spine and toying with my earring before he  
  
strode over to the dryer and pulled out his trousers. He held them in his hands  
  
and grimaced.  
  
"They're all hot," he complained. I rolled my eyes at him playfully.  
  
"Of course they're hot. They've been in the dryer." He smirked.  
  
"Oh yeah. Well, now I've got me trousers back, it seems a shame to just  
  
get them all dirty again by putting them on."  
  
"Well, there's always the shower," I said.  
  
"Shower of what, love?" asked Jack, no longer surprised by the quirks of  
  
the modern world.  
  
"Water. You turn a knob and water pours out of a spout. You stand under  
  
it and wash." Intrigued, Jack followed me to the bathroom. I showed him how to  
  
work the knobs, then quickly exited as Jack's blanket fell to the floor and he  
  
stepped into the shower. I waited in the kitchen, getting out two PB&Js for our  
  
lunch. After about 30 minutes, I started getting concerned that he'd somehow  
  
managed to drown himself in the shower. I went up to the bathroom door and  
  
listened. There was no shower sound, so I knocked.  
  
"Jack? Is everything okay?" I asked through the door.  
  
"Corking," came his prompt reply, and he opened the door suddenly. He  
  
was standing there with a towel wrapped expertly around his waist as if he'd  
  
been using towels all his life. He was retying his bandana and wringing water  
  
out of his hair.  
  
"Brilliant contraption. Honestly, between this and those sandwiches I may  
  
just have to stay here forever."  
  
"Maybe so," I said, my heart sinking as I thought about Jack leaving. In  
  
reality, I had always known that he'd have to depart someday, but for a while I  
  
had conveniently forgotten that fact. For a moment I felt weighed down by the  
  
inevitability that whatever grew up between us would be cut short. The next  
  
second, I threw it off my shoulders. I'd never allowed the future to taint the  
  
present, and I certainly wasn't going to start now. Besides, I thought to myself,  
  
Jack probably can't handle commitment any better than I can, which isn't well.  
  
Suddenly I came back to reality, and realized that I must have been staring at  
  
Jack for the last 30 seconds with God-only-knows-what expression on my face.  
  
"Sorry," I apologized, "I spaced out for a second there. Would you like  
  
some lunch?" Jack looked down at his towel. "After you've changed, of course,"  
  
I added. He grinned.  
  
"Lunch would be spiffy, thankee. Be out in a minute." He sauntered back  
  
into the bathroom and slowly shut the door. I returned to the kitchen and began  
  
looking through the cupboards for something to go with our PB&Js. There was  
  
tons of stuff on the shelves: bleu cheese, mayonnaise, sardines, and most  
  
horrifying of all, Spam. I shut the cabinet with a shudder of disgust at my  
  
parents' taste in food and sat down at the table, waiting for Jack. I didn't have  
  
long to wait; about a minute later Jack came sashaying into the room and  
  
plopped down in the seat across from me. I tossed him a sandwich.  
  
"Here's lunch. Sorry, but there's nothing to go with it, unless you fancy  
  
Spam." Jack bit into his PB&J then said around a mouthful of food,  
  
"What's Spam?" I pulled a face.  
  
"No idea. That's why I'm afraid to eat it." Jack smiled and continued  
  
eating. I began munching on my own sandwich, then I noticed something.  
  
"Jack, you took off the bandage!" It was true; the wrappings were gone,  
  
but his cut looked quite good nonetheless. He shrugged.  
  
"It got wet. But I don't need it anyway, do I?" He looked quite proud of  
  
his extraordinary healing ability. "I bet it won't open anymore, either." He  
  
proved his point by flexing his muscles first one way, then the other. He caught  
  
me staring at him wistfully, and winked. I smirked back at him.  
  
"Are you ready for action, then?" He licked his lips and narrowed his  
  
eyes, looking like a cat preparing to pounce on a mouse.  
  
"Locked and loaded, love."  
  
"Good," I said, standing up and clearing off the table, "You can help me  
  
gather firewood. I thought we might have a bonfire tonight." Jack looked  
  
nonplussed for a second, then his face lit up.  
  
"Bonfire! I love bonfires! I'll bring the rum!" I laughed.  
  
"Go ahead, but I've got to warn you that I don't drink." Jack's eyebrows  
  
shot up and he blinked rapidly.  
  
"You don't? But what about the rum?" he said, gesturing to where I  
  
supposed he'd hidden it in the futon.  
  
"That wasn't mine, remember? It was behind the fridge." He looked  
  
speculative, then beamed and stood up.  
  
"All the more for me, then. Now, firewood?"  
  
"Right," I said, and we walked out to the porch. "We might be able to find  
  
some in there." I gestured to the large palm tree grove that covered the center of  
  
the island. Jack clapped his hands together.  
  
"Well, I guess we'd better start looking then, eh?" He hopped off the  
  
porch and I followed him into the trees. 


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: This is my first attempt at fanfic, so please let me know how I'm doing. ( By the way, the boredom in this first scene is based on fact: I really was once so bored that I started singing and sparrow- walking, but I wasn't on a deserted island. I was in the middle of a crowded airport. Yeah. I endured many odd stares and security checks. Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters, so please don't sue me. **************************************************************************** **************** There were plenty of dried palm fronds that would burn very well, so we  
  
gathered these up along with some driftwood that lay scattered about. In the  
  
center of the island we found a pile of empty wooden crates; apparently,  
  
whoever had been on the island before us had not been very cleanly. Nor, I  
  
suspected, had they been very sober: every crate had 'Santiago's Rum' stamped  
  
on the side, and there were empty glass bottles everywhere. Jack picked one up  
  
and gazed at it mournfully.  
  
"Not a bloody drop left. Inconsiderate blighters." I snorted, and began  
  
breaking up the crates. After several trips to the beach we had transported all the  
  
crate fragments, and almost had enough firewood for the bonfire. We made one  
  
last circuit of the island, picking up driftwood as we went. On the far side of the  
  
island, I spotted another crate washed up on the sand. I pointed it out to Jack,  
  
who eagerly sprang towards it, obviously hoping for intact rum bottles. The lid  
  
was very tight, and it took multiple tries to open. Jack finally had to resort to  
  
using a long, narrow piece of driftwood to pry it off. There was a large plastic  
  
bag inside, which Jack promptly shredded. Then he sat back, disappointed and  
  
sulky.  
  
"No rum!" he pouted, "All that work for nothing."  
  
"Wait," I said, reaching deep inside the bag, " I think there's something in  
  
here." Jack leaned forward again as I pulled out another, smaller plastic packet. I  
  
ripped it open, and yards of colorful fabric came spilling out.  
  
"Silk!" crowed Jack. He picked up a long length of red fabric from where  
  
it had fallen and examined it intently. "Best I've ever seen. Wonder what it's  
  
doing here," he mused. He looked back up at me suddenly, then stood up and  
  
walked behind me. I made to turn to face him, but he stopped me.  
  
"Hold still," he said quietly. I complied, wondering what he was up to  
  
now. All of a sudden I felt fabric against my brow as Jack tied the silk scarf  
  
around my head. He came around in front of me again, his chin in his hand as he  
  
gazed at me, considering. He reached out a hand and deftly tugged loose a few  
  
strands of my hair, turning my head this way and that to admire the effect. Then  
  
he gave a satisfied nod and turned back to the silk, scarves flying in all directions  
  
as he sorted through them in a frenzy. Eventually he stood up with a metallic  
  
gold-colored scarf draped in his arms. He knelt in the sand in front of me, his  
  
nose level with my navel, and he tied the scarf loosely around my hips. Every  
  
now and then his long fingers would brush my bare skin, and when he was done  
  
he gave my bellybutton ring a playful flick.  
  
"There," he said proudly, his eyes traveling up and down, "you look like a  
  
piratess now. Minus a few clothes." I grinned at him.  
  
"Well, that's your favorite kind of piratess anyway, isn't it?" Jack put his  
  
hands together and looked skyward.  
  
"Amen," he said fervently. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 **************************************************************************** ********  
  
He scooped up the remnants of the crate and we started walking back to  
  
the bonfire area. We stacked the firewood into a big pile, though a few times I  
  
caught Jack staring at me rather than working. After about an hour of toil, the  
  
bonfire was ready to go, but it was still light outside. Jack and I went back into  
  
the cabin and ate a PB&J dinner. He seemed to have developed an extreme liking  
  
for my new attire; he was constantly tugging or stroking my scarves. When I  
  
suggested that he could trade his old bandana for a new one, however, Jack  
  
adamantly refused.  
  
"Not a chance, love. This's me lucky scarf, savvy?" I gave up without a  
  
fight; personally, I loved his old bandana. We both finished our sandwiches at  
  
the same time, then sat there staring at each other. Eventually I spoke.  
  
"I don't know about you, but I'm still hungry. And I'm sick of peanut  
  
butter and jelly." Jack gave me a rueful grin.  
  
"Hate to say it, but so am I. Don't suppose you have anything else.?" I  
  
shook my head.  
  
"Not unless you want to risk Spam. Wait," I said, suddenly remembering.  
  
"When we were exploring this afternoon, I could've sworn I saw some coconuts  
  
in the palm trees. Maybe there're some on the ground we can eat." We both leapt  
  
up from the table and ran outside to the trees. There were coconuts all right: at  
  
the very top of a 30-ft. palm tree. I groaned, and sat down dispiritedly.  
  
"I guess this means no coconuts," I said dully. "I really wanted one, too,  
  
but we'd need a crane or something to reach those."  
  
"Or a Sparrow," retorted Jack, and before I knew it he was climbing up  
  
the tree like a monkey. I didn't say anything for fear of distracting him, but I  
  
watched amazed as he reached the top and started plucking off coconuts,  
  
holding onto the trunk with only his thighs.  
  
"Bombs away!" he called down to me. I retreated to a safe distance as the  
  
coconuts came hurtling down, one after another. When about ten of the fruits lay  
  
on the sand, Jack began his descent. In a few minutes both his feet were safely  
  
back on the ground, and I was delighted.  
  
"Jack, that was awesome! Thanks!" He beamed and swept me a low bow.  
  
"You're welcome. Now, love, can you spy any sharp rocks? We've still got  
  
to open these." I scouted around for a second, then picked up a jagged stone that  
  
had been perilously close to my bare foot and handed it to Jack. He accepted it  
  
with a gracious "Thankee," then braced a coconut on an embedded rock in the  
  
ground. Lifting my sharp stone, he began hammering on the fruit, his bobbing,  
  
red-capped head reminding me forcefully of a woodpecker. After perhaps a  
  
minute of pounding, a large crack split the air. Jack immediately flung the rock  
  
aside and grabbed the halves before they had completely split. Holding the  
  
pieces together, he beckoned to me.  
  
"Come 'ere, love." I hopped over fallen coconuts to reach him. "Put your  
  
head back and open your mouth," he commanded. I did so, and he held the  
  
coconut over my mouth, then began to open it slowly. A stream of cloudy  
  
coconut milk poured from it into my mouth, still warm from brewing all day in  
  
the hot Caribbean sun. Some of the liquid ran over my lips and down my neck  
  
and chest, but I didn't care: it was delicious. I grabbed Jack's hands before he had  
  
completely drained the coconut and took the fruit from him.  
  
"Open," I said, then began feeding him the milk as he had done for me.  
  
When the last drops fell past his lips, I had barely lowered the coconut when Jack  
  
grabbed me and pressed his lips to mine, his tongue exploring my mouth. I gave  
  
back as good as I got, both of us tasting the tropical fruit flavor all over again, but  
  
in a different yet quite pleasing way this time. After a few long moments our lips  
  
parted and Jack grinned, his arms still around me and our faces inches apart.  
  
"One of me favorite activities: coconut snogging. What d'ye think?" I  
  
pretended to be indecisive.  
  
"Hmm, I can't really say. I've only done it once, you know."  
  
"Good point," he said, so we gave it another go.  
  
"Well?" he asked again, nose to nose with me.  
  
"Okay, I like it."  
  
"Thought so, love." Somehow throughout all this I had managed to keep  
  
hold of the coconut halves. I held them up for Jack to see.  
  
"More coconut?" I asked, rather out of breath. He took one carefully from  
  
me, then handed me a small knife. "Ye'll need this. These buggers are devilishly hard to eat." We sat together  
  
with out backs to the palm tree, prying away at the coconut meat. Jack was right;  
  
after about five minutes I'd only been able to carve out a tiny section of the fruit.  
  
I ate what I'd sliced out, enjoying the juiciness, but five seconds later it was gone.  
  
I gave the knife and the coconut a dirty look, unwilling to get back to work. Jack  
  
looked up from his already half-prepared fruit and saw me beginning to pick  
  
half-heartedly at the coconut meat.  
  
"'Ere, love, let me help." He took the coconut from my unresisting hands  
  
and carved out a small piece for me. He held it out to me, I opened my mouth,  
  
and Jack placed it gently on my tongue. I chewed and swallowed, my gaze never  
  
leaving Jack's face. He fed me piece after piece, and with each morsel, the  
  
warmth that had begun burning in my body spread, until I was tingling from  
  
head to foot. When I had swallowed the last piece, I picked up Jack's prepared  
  
coconut and was about to give him similar treatment when he put his hand on  
  
mine to restrain me.  
  
"Save some for later, love. D'ye think it's dark enough yet?" I was  
  
confused at this abrupt change of subject, and somewhat hurt that he had  
  
refused my advance. I reluctantly looked away from Jack and up at the sky; it  
  
was a shade of deepest blue, with evening stars just beginning to appear.  
  
"Looks dark enough for me," I said, looking back at him for some clue as  
  
to his intentions. He nodded in agreement and gathered up an armful of  
  
coconuts before standing up.  
  
"We'd better head back, then. I'll work on these if ye can find something to light  
  
yon kindling with. Back to the lodgings with ye," He said, giving me a soft shove in the  
  
direction of the hut. He sauntered back to the beach while I headed for the cabin,  
  
suddenly a little irritated and doubtful. Why had he not wanted the coconut I was going to  
  
give him? What did he mean by dismissing me like a servant? 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 **************************************************************************** ******  
  
My innards in turmoil, I rummaged through the cupboards until I'd found  
  
some matches and lighter fluid. I grabbed a blanket from the futon and headed  
  
out the door, then turned around, went back inside, and grabbed another  
  
blanket, fuming. If he was going to be like that, he probably wouldn't even want  
  
to share a blanket with me. I walked dejectedly back to where we had stacked the  
  
firewood, then stopped in surprise. The bonfire was already lit, and a blanket  
  
was laid out on the sand next to a makeshift driftwood table covered in ready-to-  
  
eat coconuts. Jack was tossing the last of the wood on the fire, but looked up  
  
when he heard my footsteps on the sand. He dusted off his hands and smiled at  
  
me, his handsome, lean face golden in the firelight.  
  
"Ah, you're back. How d'ye like me humble feast?" he asked, sweeping  
  
his arm to indicate the blanket and coconuts. I was tongue-tied for a minute, then  
  
said stupidly,  
  
"You didn't need the matches, did you?" I blushed, realizing too late how  
  
dumb that sounded, but Jack grinned anyway.  
  
"Had me own tinderbox. But I wanted it to be a surprise, savvy?" I smiled  
  
warmly at him, thinking that I had never met anyone sweeter than the pirate in  
  
front of me.  
  
"It's wonderful. Thank you."  
  
"Nae problem, love," he said, plopping down onto the blanket and  
  
stretching out like a cat. I sank down next to him, leaning back onto my hands  
  
and staring wistfully at the fire. "Jack, I can't tell you how glad I am that you're  
  
here. Before you came this was just another vacation, if more boring than most.  
  
Honestly, I think I began to go crazy." Jack shot me a sly, sideways glance.  
  
"Crazy enough to start singin' and cavortin' on the beach?" I looked at  
  
him, mortified.  
  
"You saw that? But you were unconscious!" Jack held up an expressive  
  
finger.  
  
"Semi-concious, love, there's a difference. But soon as I clapped me eyes  
  
on you I knew I'd found the girl for me. What good is life if ye can't sing and  
  
dance if ye feels like it?" Relieved that he didn't think I was completely off the  
  
hook, I laughed.  
  
"Cheers to that, captain!" He sat up so quickly that I jumped, startled.  
  
"Cheers? Where's the rum?!" I was flustered at being caught off-guard by  
  
such an out-of-the-blue question, but I managed an answer after only a few  
  
splutters.  
  
"Um, I guess it's wherever you left it. Why, do you want it?" He stared at  
  
me, as if not quite sure he had heard properly.  
  
"'Course, love. Now you stay put, I'll be back in a jiffy." So saying, he  
  
sprang up and started jogging back to the cabin.  
  
"Will you get me the apple juice while you're there?" I called to him as he  
  
disappeared quickly into the now almost-total darkness.  
  
"Right-o," I heard distantly, then there was silence. I turned back to the  
  
bonfire, fingering the large ring around my neck as I did so. My fingers traced  
  
the braided hair, coming to rest on the knot that held it all together. Love knot, I  
  
thought. That night, sitting on the blanket Jack had worn only hours before, in  
  
front of the fire he had built for my comfort, my stomach full of the coconut he  
  
had fed me, I knew that I would not take off that necklace until the day I died.  
  
I began humming some of my favorite pirate songs while staring at the  
  
flames, waiting for Jack. True to his word, he didn't take long; after a few  
  
minutes I heard him walking back through the palms. He entered the ring of  
  
firelight, three full bottles dangling from his hands. I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Three, Jack? There was only one before."  
  
"One's yer juice," he said, holding up the identical bottles and scrutinizing  
  
them closely before tossing me one. "And I found another rum this morning.  
  
They must multiply. Interesting."  
  
"Very interesting," I replied, uncorking my bottle. Jack threw himself  
  
down next to me and draped his arm over my shoulder, opening one bottle of  
  
rum as he did so.  
  
"So, love, what's all this about not drinking?" I sighed. I'd known this  
  
would come up sooner or later.  
  
"It's not so much drinking, it's losing control. I just don't like the fact that I  
  
could wake up in the morning with no clue what went on the night before." Jack  
  
nodded sagely.  
  
"I can savvy that. There's nothing worse than knowing you had  
  
outrageous fun but not remembering a second of it." That wasn't quite what I  
  
had meant, but it was close enough. He continued, waving his rum in the air for  
  
emphasis. "But you don't have to get that sozzled, love, if that's a bit too extreme  
  
for ye. Just a mouthful wouldn't do ye any harm." I shrugged.  
  
"I guess not. But what's the point if it's just a mouthful anyway?" Jack  
  
opened his mouth to argue, but I stopped him. "Jack, I know I can't win an  
  
argument about rum with you. Can we just leave it that, for now at least, I'm  
  
drinking apple juice?" Jack's arm squeezed my shoulders affectionately.  
  
"If we must. Now, I've been meaning to ask ye," he said, his arm slipping  
  
lower to encircle my waist, "How is it that you're not afraid to be on this island  
  
with naught between you and an infamous pirate like meself?"  
  
"Well," I said, snuggling up closer to him, "You are Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
I think whatever risk there may be in hosting a pirate is definitely worth taking if  
  
it means I get to have you around." Jack looked pleased and flattered.  
  
"Why thankee, love, but I didn't mean it like that. I was referring to  
  
pirates in general; 'We pillage and plunder, rifle and loot,' etc. That doesn't faze  
  
ye?" I shook my head, my cheeks brushing Jack's bare chest.  
  
"I can take care of myself. Besides, if I'd been born in the right century I  
  
might've been tempted to be a pirate myself. As it is, I can deal with trouble quite  
  
nicely, thanks." Jack rested his head on my shoulder and spoke softly in my ear.  
  
"What, I'm not trouble?" I ran my hand down his chest, enjoying the  
  
smooth hardness against my palm.  
  
"Of course you're trouble. Just not the kind I want to get rid of."  
  
"I'll drink to that," he said merrily, lifting his head from my shoulder and  
  
holding up his bottle of golden liquid. I held up mine, and we clinked them  
  
together.  
  
"To trouble!" I proposed.  
  
"To dauntless lassies!" he said, and we both tossed back our drinks with a  
  
couple swallows. Suddenly, there was a burning sensation in my stomach, and I  
  
realized that my mouth didn't taste like apple juice. I made a face at the bottle.  
  
"That has got to be the worst juice I've ever tasted," I said. Jack,  
  
meanwhile, was also looking puzzled at his bottle.  
  
"Strangest rum I've ever had. Tastes like ap--" he looked up at me with  
  
dawning comprehension, "--ples," he finished lamely, then gave me a sheepish  
  
grin. "Sorry 'bout that, love. They all look the same. Guess you are drinking after  
  
all, eh?" I smiled ruefully, handing him back the mistaken rum.  
  
"Guess so, but that is quite enough, thank you." I felt a bit light-headed and my  
  
stomach still radiated warmth, but other than that, the rum didn't seem to have done  
  
much damage. 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 **************************************************************************** ********  
  
Jack took a swig from the bottle as I gave it back.  
  
"There, now we're even. Ye know, though, we really oughtn't to be  
  
drinking on empty stomachs."  
  
"My stomach's still full of coconut," I reminded him, "But you still  
  
haven't had any. D'you want some now?"  
  
"Wouldn't want to get smashed too soon, now would I?" he said with an  
  
impish smile. Figuring that meant yes, I walked over to the table and picked up  
  
two coconut halves. Turning around, I beheld Jack lying sinuously on the  
  
ground, every curve of his body highlighted by the fire. I can honestly say that  
  
never before and never since have I seen such an amazingly alluring sight.  
  
Feeling even more woozy than I had after chugging the rum, I walked carefully  
  
back over to him, sitting cross-legged facing the fire. Jack wiggled over and  
  
placed his head on my lap, gazing up at me with a slightly naughty smile.  
  
Purposely trying not to think of what Jack could see from this vantage point (I  
  
was still in my bikini, as I had been all day) I began to carefully place pieces of  
  
coconut in Jack's parted mouth. A couple of times, whether by accident or  
  
design, he closed his mouth before I had completely removed my fingers. The  
  
contact sent a shock similar to an electric current all throughout my body.  
  
Far too quickly, the fruit had disappeared, and I was left with Jack's head  
  
in my lap and nothing to do with my hands. Rather than just sitting there like a  
  
sofa, I started massaging his shoulders, feeling his taut muscles relax under my  
  
fingers. Jack groaned with pleasure.  
  
"Mmmm, that's the ticket, love. Me shoulders have been killing me ever  
  
since that coconut escapade." I continued my massage, moving up to his neck  
  
and eventually to his back and chest. As I leaned over him to reach his ribs, I felt  
  
his fingertips on my pearl and gold bellybutton ring.  
  
"Say, love, is this a real pearl?" I sat back up and looked down at my ring.  
  
"Well, the place I got it from said it was, but I don't know how to check.  
  
Do you?" Jack propped himself up on his elbows and gave my bellybutton an  
  
appraising glance.  
  
"There's only one way I know of to tell fer sure." So saying, he leaned  
  
forward and pressed his mouth against my stomach. I gasped convulsively, my  
  
fingers clutching the blanket beneath me. I felt his tongue tracing my navel and I  
  
shuddered, my knees weakening. Then Jack sat back, giving me a languorous  
  
smile from beneath his kohl-dark eyes. I struggled to calm myself long enough to  
  
gasp out a few words.  
  
"You can taste if a pearl is real or not?" I asked, my voice somewhat  
  
hoarser than usual. Jack smirked and reached out a hand, caressing my ring  
  
again, and once again rendering me breathless.  
  
"Actually, it's all in the teeth. If ye scrape yer teeth against it and it's  
  
smooth, it's a fake. If it seems a bit rough, it's real, like yours."  
  
"It's real, then?" I inquired, though under the intent, searing gaze of Jack  
  
Sparrow, my usual fascination with treasure was rather overwhelmed by a new  
  
passion. He slid up closer to me, molding his body around mine and twining his  
  
arms around my chest.  
  
"Oh yes," he purred, gazing unwaveringly into my eyes through his long,  
  
dark lashes, "it's a beautiful," he kissed my chin, "rare," his mouth moved to my  
  
neck, "priceless," a tongue traced the base of my throat, "gem."  
  
************************************************************************ 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 **************************************************************************** *******  
  
I shuddered, tilting my head back while Jack continued to taste my  
  
collarbone. As he began to move his explorations lower, I suddenly jerked back.  
  
He looked at me quizzically and I blushed, turning my face away from him  
  
slightly.  
  
"Jack, um, I've.well. I've never done this before." I stared down at my  
  
hands, twining my fingers together anxiously. I was certainly eager for his touch,  
  
but I was also apprehensive. What were Jack's standards for this sort of thing?  
  
What if he thought I was disappointing or uninteresting? I looked back up at  
  
him, afraid that he'd pull away or, even worse, start treating me like a child.  
  
Instead, I was surprised to find a delighted smile stretching across his face.  
  
"So much the better, love. You just need the right teacher," he said,  
  
flamboyantly gesturing at himself. "Now, it's really quite easy. We'll start off  
  
where we were a minute ago." His lips on mine suspended conversation for  
  
several minutes. As his hands slid up my back, fingers toying with my bikini  
  
straps, I started a bit of investigating on my own. His vest came off first, though  
  
it took me a minute to undo all the buttons, as my fingers were growing  
  
unsteadier by the minute. When he began nibbling and sucking on my lower lip,  
  
my breath came out in a gasp. My eyes flew open, and I found Jack's own hot,  
  
dark eyes already fixed on my own. His ripped shirt that he had stubbornly put  
  
on earlier came off without any resistance. Suddenly, I felt the straps of my bikini  
  
come undone and my top fell to the sand. My hands flew up to cover myself, but  
  
Jack caught my wrists halfway there.  
  
"Now, love, yer first lesson is don't block the view. Savvy?"  
  
"Savvy," I breathed, my eyes glued to his bare chest bathed in firelight.  
  
He chuckled and leaned over me, pressing me down onto the blanket, his hands  
  
still pinning my wrists to the ground. He pressed his mouth to mine, and our lips  
  
and tongues meshed until I couldn't tell where my mouth ended and his began.  
  
Then he began working his way down my neck, his beard tickling my skin and  
  
his lips leaving exquisitely tender bruises at every full stop. In a fit of pique, I  
  
wrenched my wrists free and captured his shoulders, drawing his face back up  
  
level with mine. I started returning his painful kisses, hesitantly at first, then  
  
more boldly as I felt a groan vibrate in his throat.  
  
"Well," he rasped, then cleared his throat, "looks like yeh've learned  
  
lesson two all on your onesies. Yeh didn't need ol' Jack after all." He smiled  
  
mischievously at me and I smirked right back.  
  
"I wouldn't go that far," I murmured, running my fingers lightly down  
  
his chest. "But what's lesson three?" Jack's bright, dark eyes flashed as his mouth  
  
stretched in his trademark, slightly mad grin. His hands slipped behind me,  
  
coming to rest in the small of my back and pulling me tighter against his warm  
  
body. Though he never explained it in words, I must say that the third lesson  
  
was by far my favorite.  
  
A/N: A huge, heartfelt thanks to all of you who stuck with my story despite the long time without updates. Drinks all around! :-) To all who didn't stay with it. well, there's no point in saying anything because you're obviously not reading this anyway. In any case, there will be a few more chapters (soon, hopefully) and then this fic will be done. Btw, this chapter is as graphic as it's gonna get, for a couple of reasons. First, I really am.inexperienced in these matters *blushes furiously and changes subject* and SECONDLY I'd like to keep this PG-13. So please tell me if the rating's okay, I wasn't really sure. Cheers! 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 **************************************************************************** *****  
  
I awoke at dawn the next morning. Not by choice; I would rather have  
  
snoozed in Jack's arms for as long as was humanly possible, but the bright light  
  
of the Caribbean sunrise wouldn't let me sleep. I slowly opened my bleary eyes,  
  
and smiled when the first thing I saw was Jack's bare chest, the tan skin and  
  
multiple tattoos glowing in the morning light. I lifted my head from where it  
  
rested on his stomach and looked out at the ocean over the remains of our  
  
bonfire. The sunrise was magnificent; rose pink clouds shot with yellow, like a  
  
vein of gold ore in a ruby matrix. It occurred to me that nothing was ever pale or  
  
half-hearted in the Caribbean: every day was good enough to be the last day on  
  
Earth, and every facet of the world seemed to rejoice as if simply being alive was  
  
cause for celebration. My smile turned wistful as my eyes returned to Jack where  
  
he lay sprawled in my arms on top of the soft red blanket. Despite his eccentric  
  
appearance, he seemed to fit effortlessly into the scene, as if there was nowhere  
  
else on Earth he could ever be. As I gazed on his face, I realized with an odd  
  
feeling in my stomach that I loved him. It wasn't the sort of love that most people  
  
speak of, the possessive type of love that compels people to get married and  
  
settle down, but the love that loves only life itself. I loved him as I loved the  
  
sunrise: as something beautiful, unique, and wonderful in every way, but no  
  
more mine than the sea that lapped against the sand. With this thought his eyes  
  
flickered open, and he smiled when he noticed me staring at him.  
  
"Mornin' love. What gets ye up so early?" I snorted into his stomach.  
  
" Well, it could be the fact that it's brighter out here than London on New  
  
Year's Eve."  
  
"That could be it," he agreed amiably, accenting his speech with a few  
  
well-timed hand gestures. I grinned and sat up, brushing my tangled hair back  
  
with my hands. I let my eyes roam over Jack, lingering especially on the various  
  
well-drawn (and not-so-well-drawn) tattoos that were scattered haphazardly  
  
over his body. Jack smirked and put his arms behind his head, looking  
  
completely at ease despite the fact that neither of us was wearing so much as a  
  
sock. I lowered my hand to the tattoo of a diamond that lay just below his  
  
ribcage and rubbed it gently with my fingertips.  
  
"Jack, tell me about these tattoos?"  
  
"Mmmm?" he asked. I looked up to see him staring at my chest, his eyes  
  
slightly glazed. I snapped my fingers in front of his face.  
  
"Up here, Jack. Your tattoos. Why, when, where, who, how."  
  
"Yeh forgot what."  
  
"I can see 'what' for myself. I was wondering about the rest of it."  
  
"They're souvenirs, as it were," he said, looking down at his chest himself  
  
and pointing as he explained. "This diamond 'ere's to commemorate when I  
  
commandeered a dumpy little junk from Peking only teh find a bloody mountain  
  
of gems belowdecks. Good day, that." I wiped treasure-induced drool from my  
  
mouth as he continued, pointing at a complicated twisting pattern on the inside  
  
of his left arm.  
  
"This little swirly was given teh me by some sort of cult in Panama. I  
  
sailed in one night teh see what sort of treasure was to be 'ad, an' they mistook  
  
me fer a new convert an' slapped this on me arm. Pretty enough, though, isn' it?"  
  
I murmured my agreement, tracing my finger around a small, red rose tattoo on  
  
his right pectoral.  
  
"What about this one?" I asked, tapping it. Jack looked down, then gave  
  
me an abashed, slightly nervous smile.  
  
"Well, that's.um.that one was from.there was this girl, ye see, in Port  
  
Elizabeth.an'." I grinned.  
  
"I get the picture, Jack. And I'm not going to slap you," I added, because  
  
he'd been wincing slightly whenever I moved. "I don't begrudge you your  
  
'pleasurable company.'" My fingers moved from the rose and meandered their  
  
way down his chest.  
  
"When you get back to Tortuga," I said softly, staring wistfully at the  
  
expanse of unadorned skin on his stomach, "will you get one done for me?"  
  
Jack's warm hand found my unoccupied one and gave it a squeeze.  
  
"Surely, love. I'll even let ye pick. What, an' where?" I contemplated this  
  
for a moment, running my eyes up and down the grinning pirate in front of me.  
  
"An eight-pointed star," I said finally, leaning over him and putting my  
  
hand on his solar plexus, "Here." He wrapped his arms around me, running one  
  
hand through my hair and the other down my spine.  
  
"A star it is, love. Any particular reason?" I shrugged, and relaxed my  
  
head against his chest.  
  
"Not really. I just think it would look nice there. I'd offer to let you pick a  
  
tattoo for me, but I no one will give me one until I'm eighteen." Jack looked  
  
thoughtful.  
  
"Last time I was in Tortuga, I watched ol' Ned when he did 'is little  
  
drawin's. It looked pretty easy, jest needles an' ink. If ye like, I could give it a  
  
go."  
  
"Can you draw?" I asked, a little skeptical.  
  
"Sure I can. I can write, can't I?" I laughed.  
  
"Go ahead then. I have a sewing kit back at the cabin, there ought to be  
  
some needles in there." I was still doubtful about his artistic ability, but even if  
  
the tattoo turned out to be a blotch of ink it would still be Jack's blotch of ink. I  
  
snuggled up closer to his warm body, turning my face to gaze at the sunrise.  
  
A/N: For those of you who aren't gemologically inclined, when I referred to 'gold ore in a ruby matrix' I meant a vein of gold in a big chunk of ruby crystal. Just so you know. ^_^ Oh, and for the record, I don't recommend unprofessional tattoos. So if this story does inspire you get one and it turns out badly, don't say I didn't warn you. Now go ahead and review, and I'll blow off studying to write the next chapter. Did that last time, but I aced the test anyway.so review! ^_~ 


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: *sighs* No, I don't own POTC.  
  
Archive: Here's an idea: you tell me what archiving /is/, and I'll tell you whether or not you may. Do we have an accord? ^_^  
  
Chapter 13 **************************************************************************** *  
  
"It's a beautiful day," I said after a while. Jack's hair trailed across my face  
  
as he turned to look as well.  
  
"Pretty," he agreed, "but red. 'Red sky in mornin', ' ye know. We'll have  
  
to go inside soon enough."  
  
"It's not red, it's pink," I protested, not wanting to move.  
  
"Pink, red, 't'all adds up teh the same thing," he said, pulling me up with  
  
him as he sat up with a groan, "a bloody good gale. C'mon, love, up ye get." I  
  
sighed and stood up, glancing around in search of my bikini. I picked it up from  
  
where it lay half-concealed under a corner of the blanket and pulled it on before I  
  
realized that Jack hadn't moved. I scowled at him, and he smirked impishly back.  
  
"Jest enjoyin' the view, love." I rolled my eyes.  
  
"You can do that later. Now get off your pirate butt and help me fold the  
  
blanket." He gave me his best puppy-dog eyes, but I continued glowering until  
  
he finally relented and slurped liquidly to his feet. Muttering incoherently under  
  
his breath, he donned his trousers and threw his unbuttoned vest haphazardly  
  
over his bare chest. I found my top where it had been discarded the night before,  
  
and after a token protest Jack helped me tie it back on. While I shook the sand  
  
out of the blanket, he used a couple of empty coconut shells to douse the  
  
smouldering embers of our fire with seawater. I raised an eyebrow at that: surely  
  
the coming storm would completely extinguish the coals without any help from  
  
Jack. Said pirate, however, failed to notice my puzzlement, and I decided not to  
  
comment. We headed back to the cabin, my arms full of the blanket and Jack's  
  
rum and the pirate's own arms full of coconuts for later. It was a good thing we  
  
had decided to get up when we did: already the brilliant sky had clouded over  
  
and as we reached the hut a cool, damp breeze began to blow. Jack dumped the  
  
coconuts unceremoniously on the table as I shut and securely latched the door.  
  
As I peered out the window, I saw the palm trees beginning to sway in a strong  
  
wind. I heard Jack come up behind me, then felt his arms slip around my waist.  
  
"You were right about the storm," I said, indicating the steadily darkening  
  
view from the window. "Are all sailor's proverbs this accurate?"  
  
"Aye. Mostly, anyway. Especially the one about a lady's hair and the size  
  
of her-"  
  
"Okay, okay! Too much information!" Jack chuckled into my neck and  
  
then removed his arms, turning to rummage through the fridge. I left the  
  
window and sat down at the table, picking absently at a coconut as I gazed at  
  
Jack, my eyes unfocused and my mind on holiday. He dug out two PB&Js and  
  
held one out to me triumphantly. I took it with a grin and a mocking bow, and he  
  
sat down across from me as we ate. He finished first, and avidly watched me  
  
devour the last of my sandwich. I licked my fingers free of the sticky jam,  
  
causing Jack to give an audible gulp. Suddenly, rain hit the window like water  
  
from a fire hose, making both of us jump. Jack gave me a rueful grin.  
  
"'t always surprises me how fast these bloody storms roll in. Should be  
  
used teh it by now, but.ah well. Ready for that inkin', love?" I smiled.  
  
"Sure. Let me get the supplies." I went into my room and dug through the  
  
debris on the floor until I found my sewing kit and two bottles of ink, one black  
  
and one blue. I carried my findings back to the living room, but when I entered  
  
Jack was nowhere to be seen. I was about to turn around to look for him in the  
  
hallway when I felt strong arms wrap around me from behind and hoist me into  
  
the air. I somehow managed not to drop the ink in surprise, but it was a near  
  
thing. Jack's eyes sparkled mischievously as he deposited me on the futon,  
  
simultaneously relieving me of my burden.  
  
"Now love," he purred, unscrewing the lid of the black ink, "if yeh'd be so  
  
kind, jest lie back and relax. This may hurt a little." I stretched out on the couch,  
  
noting as I did so that the bedding smelled like Jack.  
  
"What are you going to draw?" I asked, watching him pull a couple  
  
needles out of the sewing kit.  
  
"It's a surprise. Shush now, I need teh concentrate." I saw him dip a  
  
needle into the ink and bend over me, pulling down my bikini bottom just  
  
enough to expose my right hipbone. I winced as I felt the needle pierce my skin,  
  
but I didn't flinch for fear of messing up Jack's work. Hours passed, and  
  
eventually I got accustomed to the sharp pain of the needle. Despite my tendency  
  
to get bored easily, I discovered that I didn't find the process of getting tattooed  
  
at all tedious. I kept my eyes away from Jack's drawing, instead focusing on the  
  
graceful and yet slightly jerky movement of his hands as he wielded his ink-  
  
stained needle. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, mere dark slits below  
  
his bandana. Every now and then he'd lean back to survey his inking, tilting his  
  
head from side to side, then re-dipping the needle and returning to work. As I  
  
lay there, I listened to the rain pounding on the windows and gazed contentedly  
  
at Jack's face. To this day, whenever a storm blows through I almost feel my hip  
  
prickle, reminding me of a lovely, mad pirate and filling my nostrils with the  
  
warm scent of saltwater and rum.  
  
A/N: Can you guess what the tattoo is going to be? Bet you can't! ^_~ And now for my thank-you notes! (for reviews since 11/20)  
  
goldensnidget: Yes, me and Jack.*snicker* I love being bad. And thanks for your sympathy, but I won't sue you even if I never find someone. 'S not polite to sue reviewers. ^_^  
  
Dimonah Tralon: Thanks for the feedback! Yeah, I'm not into writing stuff that's *too* graphic, especially as I do a lot of my writing in school.  
  
i LuV jAcK SpArRoW: I'M GONNA GET A TATTOO TOO! Just wait until the next chapter.*evil cackle* he he he.depply in love, good one! ^_~  
  
Black Ice Dragoness: Cool name! And thanks, I will continue. *bows*  
  
Pervy Elf-Fancier: I'm an elf-fancier too! Though mostly a pervy pirate- fancier, as you can probably tell. Yeah, Jack is a bit modern. I realized that when I read back over what I'd written, but I think it'd change my story too much if I went back and corrected it. Thanks for noticing, though.  
  
StoryTellerJS: Yay! I made somebody laugh their socks off! ^_^ I'm so glad you liked it! This was the first time you've ever laughed out loud while reading? I'm touched. (awww.) Btw, does the JS in your name stand for Jack Sparrow?  
  
Flip-flop hobbit: You read it in one go? Wow. I know it's pretty long, but I couldn't help myself. I love writing. * 'Duh!' echoes across the web* And thanks for mentioning specific parts you liked, it helps me write better when I know what works and what doesn't. PB&J forever!  
  
.and for all of you I didn't respond to, I'm going to do a massive 'thank you' page at the end of my story. So don't worry, you're not forgotten! 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 **************************************************************************** *******  
  
If the rain-laden clouds hadn't shrouded the sun, it would have been past  
  
its zenith and heading west when Jack finally finished. He dabbed my skin with  
  
a cloth, wiping away small drops of blood and ink.  
  
"There ye go, love," he said proudly, gazing at his handiwork. I lifted my  
  
head to look down at my hip with a bit of trepidation at what I was about to see.  
  
My fears were groundless, however. A beautifully drawn compass rose now  
  
adorned my skin, cardinal directions labeled in flowery script and the center  
  
inhabited by a tiny, flying sparrow. I caught my breath.  
  
"Jack, it's beautiful! Thank you!" He beamed and daubed at my tattoo a  
  
bit more, though it didn't really need any cleaning up.  
  
"Best I've ever done, an' that's saying somethin', if I do say so meself."  
  
"So you can draw after all," I teased.  
  
"Told ye I could, didn't I? I used to draw maps all the time, for where I  
  
stashed me plunder, for currents, friendly ports an' so on. Knew I hadn't lost me  
  
touch." I looked at him quizzically.  
  
"You were a cartographer?" Jack winced.  
  
"Never liked that word, made me sound like I ran over gophers with a  
  
cart. Map-maker extraordinaire, if ye don't mind." I grinned, and then something  
  
about my tattoo caught my eye. Several thin lines ran behind the compass,  
  
looking like random strands of pasta.  
  
"Jack, what're these?" I asked, pointing them out. He winked.  
  
"Look closely, love. It's a map. See?" he said, running a finger over a line  
  
near the top. "This's the coast of Flor de la Terra." I thought for a second, then  
  
made the connection.  
  
"Florida?"  
  
"If that's what they call it these days. Now this 'ere," he pointed at what I  
  
now saw was an island just under the eastern ray of the compass, "is Cuba, with  
  
Tortuga jest above. An' this," he said finally, putting his finger on a tiny X off the  
  
coast of another island, "is where ol' Fishface squirreled away 'is treasure. It's  
  
not a big hoard, maybe ten chests or so, but 'e 'ad this jewel fetish, same as you.  
  
'e collected quite a few good-sized gems over the years." My eyes felt like they  
  
were about to pop out of my head.  
  
"And you're giving it to me?" I asked, slightly hysterically. Jack looked as  
  
close to being ashamed as he possibly could, which is to say vaguely guilty.  
  
"I 'ave others. Lots, actually. This'n's me smallest. I wanted to give ye one,  
  
but I didn't want to part with any of my big hoards. Yer treasure-crazy, I knew  
  
yeh'd understand." I did. I would have done the same in his position: no matter  
  
how much someone loves another, parting with mountains of treasure is just too  
  
much to ask. But from someone as obsessed as Jack, even this 'small' hoard was a  
  
monumental gift. I was absolutely speechless for a few seconds, staring at the  
  
precious diagram needled into my skin. Then I beamed up at Jack, my heart  
  
feeling as if it would burst from excitement.  
  
"Thank you.god, bloody thank you! If I can ever return the favor." An  
  
answering smile lit up Jack's face. He scooted closer to me, one hand slithering  
  
up my back to my bikini straps and the other circling the stinging tattoo on my  
  
hip.  
  
"Well, now that ye mention it." For the second night in a row, neither of  
  
us got much sleep.  
  
A/N: While I was writing this during my art class, I actually drew the tattoo from this story as part of my brainstorming process. If you want to see it, just let me know your email and I'll send it to you. At the moment, I'm planning to update my story either in 3 days or when I get 10 reviews, so if you want the next chappie NOW, you know what to do! ^_~ Oh, and as it looks now, the next chapter (though long) will be the last. *sniff* Thanks everybody for your feedback! I've really enjoyed hearing from my readers. ^_^ 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 **************************************************************************** **********  
  
Several hours later, I woke to a tickling sensation on my neck. When my  
  
mind unfogged, I realized that it was Jack's beard doing the tickling as he  
  
whispered in my ear.  
  
"Wakey wakey," he breathed, blowing warm air into my ear. I groaned.  
  
"Mmmph, shut up, I need sleep." I heard an annoying chuckle behind me,  
  
then felt his hands sneaking to my ribs. All of a sudden he began tickling, and I  
  
jerked awake with a squeak.  
  
"Jack!" He gave me an innocent look.  
  
"Jest thought ye should be up by now. It's way past dawn, love." I  
  
glanced over to the window and saw sunlight streaming onto the floor of the  
  
cabin. Apparently, the storm had blown over, and it was the start of a new day. I  
  
turned to look at Jack where he lay behind me and gave him my evilest glare.  
  
"You're not up," I said pointedly. He smirked, then sat up and tried to  
  
jump gracefully to his feet. Unfortunately for him, his dramatic exit was  
  
somewhat spoiled as his legs tangled in the bedding and he landed face- first on  
  
the floor. I laughed until my eyes streamed with tears, and probably would have  
  
died of a humor overdose if Jack hadn't grabbed my ankle and pulled me onto  
  
the floor next to him. I landed with a rather painful bump, temporarily jarring  
  
me out of my hysteria. Jack, meanwhile, had disentangled himself from the  
  
blankets and began to tickle me unmercifully. I rolled on the ground hooting  
  
with laughter, trying to avoid his hands, but he was far too good at this game for  
  
me to succeed. Eventually, I ended up pinned on my back with Jack sitting  
  
smugly on my heaving chest.  
  
"Say parley," he purred evilly.  
  
"Parley!" I wheezed, shoving him off me. He stood up, chortling, and  
  
made his way over to the table that was still littered with coconuts from the night  
  
before. He picked up one half-eaten fruit and began munching, watching me  
  
with amusement as I flung the bedding back onto the futon, cursing all the while.  
  
"Yeh know, love, ye have quite the vocabulary for a blushing maiden such  
  
as yerself." I shot him a rueful grin.  
  
"Spend a week in high school, you'll see where I get it from soon enough."  
  
He nodded wisely, though I'm sure he didn't have the slightest idea what I was  
  
talking about.  
  
"Naturally. Well, now we're both up and about, what say you to a  
  
mornin' stroll? With a bite teh eat, of course." I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"With or without clothes?" We were both still quite naked, except for the  
  
odd bit of jewelry. Jack's mouth quirked in a grin.  
  
"I was plannin' teh get dressed first, but if ye insist." I scowled at him,  
  
and he sighed. "Fine, clothed it is." I smirked and returned to my bedroom,  
  
donning a pair of shorts and a shirt that I found slung over the back of a chair.  
  
Jack, mostly dressed, was happily chowing down on a PB&J when I got back to  
  
the kitchen, but he pouted when he saw I was fully clothed.  
  
"What, no balini today?" I snorted.  
  
"Bikini, Jack, and no. I only have the one, and I've been wearing for the  
  
past few days."  
  
"So?" he asked, finishing off his sandwich and licking his fingers rather  
  
suggestively. I tore my eyes away and headed for the refrigerator myself,  
  
explaining modern hygiene as I went.  
  
"So, I usually don't wear the same outfit even two days in a row if I can  
  
help it. But don't worry, I'll do a load of laundry later, and then I'll put it back  
  
on. Happy?" He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes contemplatively.  
  
"Mmmm.." He murmured. I stood there, expecting him to say  
  
something more, but he didn't. After a minute, I leaned over and waved my  
  
hand in front of his face.  
  
"Jack!" He jumped, opening his eyes.  
  
"Sorry love. You wanted to go fer a walk?" He stood up and brushed  
  
breadcrumbs off his lap. I shook my head at Jack's peculiarity, then grabbed a  
  
sandwich and followed him onto the porch. As we sauntered down the steps to  
  
the beach, he slung his arm around my waist and we chatted amiably for a while,  
  
with some garbled words on my part as I was still eating my PB&J. When we got  
  
to the shore, Jack halted and gave me a roguish smile.  
  
"Up fer a little treasure huntin', love?" I grinned eagerly back.  
  
"You know it." So saying, we began to do a sort of mad, capering dance,  
  
kicking up sand in the hopes of unearthing something sparkly. Unfortunately,  
  
the beach appeared to have been treasured-out, and after many minutes of  
  
frolicking the only thing we had to show for it was sand in our hair and lack of  
  
breath in our lungs. I wheezed my way over to where Jack lay panting on the  
  
beach and threw myself down next to him.  
  
"Not.a.bloody.thing," I puffed, pushing my hair out of my eyes. Jack  
  
sighed and rolled over, plopping his head onto my stomach and staring up at the  
  
sky.  
  
"Well, ye win some, ye lose some," he said philosophically. I ran my  
  
hands through his hair, or tried to, but my fingers kept snagging on dreadlocks  
  
and beads. I finally gave up and simply rested one hand against his cheek and  
  
the other on his neck, feeling the life pulse beneath his skin. We basked in the  
  
sun for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other's company. Jack murmured  
  
incoherently and turned his head to gaze at the ocean, unintentionally brushing  
  
my tender tattoo as he did so. I winced slightly.  
  
"Whoops, sorry love," he said, gently patting my stomach with one be-  
  
jeweled hand.  
  
"'S okay." I closed my eyes and lay back, fully intending to take a nice,  
  
long nap in the sun, despite the odd tan lines I knew I would get. Suddenly, I felt  
  
Jack's body stiffen and the pressure from his head lift from my midsection. My  
  
eyes snapped open, and I saw Jack sitting up straight next to me, staring out to  
  
sea with an unreadable expression on his face. Frowning, I sat up and followed  
  
his gaze. I spotted it immediately: a ship, not far from shore, black sails billowing  
  
in the tropical wind.  
  
"The Pearl," Jack whispered, his eyes burning with longing, "She came  
  
back fer me." For a moment I sat numb, not fully realizing what the ship's arrival  
  
would mean. I looked at Jack's eager face, then out to the ship in the blue waters,  
  
and a wave of sadness washed over me. I had known he would have to leave  
  
eventually, but I'd expected to have at least a few more days with him, a few  
  
more wonderful, idyllic days. The ship had come too soon; I wasn't ready to part  
  
with Captain Jack Sparrow just yet. But the tide was turning, and there was no  
  
way I could simply take off and leave my life behind just to follow him. The  
  
pirate had a choice: me or the Pearl, and I had already lost. I stood up, Jack  
  
following suit. He turned to me with a regretful smile and wrapped me in his  
  
arms.  
  
"I've got to go, love," he murmured, holding me tightly. I smiled as I  
  
wiped a small tear from my eye behind his back.  
  
"I know," I said softly. He held me at arms length, looking me seriously in  
  
the eye.  
  
"I will see ye again," he promised, narrowing his eyes as if daring me to  
  
contradict him. "I'll leave ye a map or somethin' in Fishface's treasure cove so ye  
  
can find me." He looked at me slightly apprehensively. "Yeh're not gonna fall to  
  
pieces on me now, are ye?" I gave him a mock-scowl, then grinned.  
  
"Go get your Pearl, Captain. She's waiting." He flashed me a brilliant  
  
smile, gold teeth gleaming in the sun. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to  
  
mine, our tongues dancing in a final farewell. We held each other tight for a few  
  
more moments, and then he was off, running down the shore and diving into the  
  
waves. I watched him swim strongly through the calm waters, reaching the ship  
  
just as a longboat was being launched off the starboard side. Two sailors hauled  
  
him dripping from the water, and the boat was raised once more. I heard Jack's  
  
loud voice echoing across the bay, shouting orders no doubt, though I couldn't  
  
make out the words. Black sails unfurled as the sailors heaved-to, and the Pearl  
  
slowly but surely glided out to sea. Just before the ship was lost to sight, I saw  
  
the familiar pirate at the wheel lift his hand in a farewell salute, his rings  
  
catching the sun and sending colored sparks in every direction. I waved back,  
  
smiling broadly despite the tears that ran down my face. Then he was gone, and  
  
the world was back to its normal self. I sat back down on the sand, staring out at  
  
the ocean, and wondered when my parents would get back. I thought nervously  
  
of the explaining I would have to do when they saw the trail of little bruises on  
  
my neck and the pile of PB&Js in the fridge. I missed Jack with a sudden pang;  
  
surely he would have been able to explain both with a couple well-chosen  
  
sentences. I smirked, remembering the crazy pirate, but decided not to dwell on  
  
the facts of life I couldn't change. Besides, I thought, my hand straying to my  
  
still-smarting hip, I had some treasure to find.  
  
**The End**  
  
A/N: Yay! It's done! *cue heavenly choir* In truth, though, I'm feeling a bit sad: this was fun to write. I may just have to write another one. Hmm. . . ^_~ Actually, at the moment I'm not planning to do a sequel. I might be persuaded if there's an OVERWHELMING demand for it, but barring that, it won't happen. Anyway, I'd love to hear what everyone thinks about my story as a whole now that it's finished. I'll probably go over it and do some editing here and there, so if there are typos or anything that you noticed, please let me know. Thanks for reading my story!! Kudos to everyone! ^_^ 


	16. Encore Epilogue Thing

Wow! Everybody wants a sequel! I'm touched. *wipes away tear* But I'm afraid my muse refuses to let me write sequels, it's a rather evil quirk of mine. *ducks thrown vegetables* BUT, since you all asked so beautifully, here's something I wrote specially for you. I offer up this humble encore.epilogue.*thing* on the altar to my almighty reviewers. Enjoy! ^_^  
....oh, and feel free to review.^_~  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
It felt odd walking down the streets of Tortuga wearing jeans and a T-  
  
shirt. I noticed how the eyes of passers-by tended to follow me, but no one said  
  
anything; quite possibly because Tortuga was used to seeing things out of the  
  
ordinary. I glanced down surreptitiously at the smallish compass nestled in my  
  
palm. The little sparrow lodestone was pointing forward and to the right:  
  
looking up, I saw that it was directly indicating a rather seedy-looking pub by  
  
the name of The Faithful Bride. I stuck the compass into my pocket, and couldn't  
  
help but grin when my fingers brushed against the twenty-or-so gems also  
  
currently inhabiting my jeans pocket. Thinking wistfully about the even larger  
  
mound of treasure that was carefully hidden on my speedboat in the cove, I  
  
approached the tavern in front of me, then pushed open the front doors and  
  
entered warily. It was almost as dark in the pub as it was outside, but by the light  
  
of a few candles I could see assorted pirates and other shady characters engaged  
  
in various activities: sitting at the bar, chugging rum at tables, or merely  
  
ornamenting the floor. My eyes searched the faces, looking for one in particular.  
  
Finally, I heard a familiar drawling voice emanating from a crowd of men and  
  
women of doubtful moral character that were clustered around a table in the  
  
corner.  
  
"So then I opened me eyes," the voice continued as I pushed my way  
  
through the throng, "and there she was. An' what d'ye suppose the angel was  
  
wearin'?" There was an expectant hush from the crowd. I squeezed between two  
  
onlookers to see Jack, elbows on the table, smirking at his avid audience. He  
  
leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, stroking the air with an expressive  
  
hand.  
  
"Nothin'. Not a bloody stitch." There was an appreciative murmur from  
  
the men in the crowd, and the women nodded to themselves, apparently taking  
  
mental notes. Jack went on with his tale, eyes still closed as if visualizing the  
  
whole episode over again.  
  
"Then she took me teh her house an' laid me on the softest bunk ye can  
  
imagine. An' she says to me, 'Captain, jest lay back and let me take care of ye.'  
  
Then she did, mates, in more ways than one, savvy?" He opened his eyes to wink  
  
at his audience. I grinned and smothered a chuckle. Jack's head turned at my  
  
strangled laughter and I saw his eyes widen in surprise.  
  
"Er.hey love, what a surprise teh see ye here." Everyone turned to look  
  
at me as I smirked at Jack from across the table.  
  
"Hello, Jack. Go on with your story: it sounded very interesting." The  
  
pirate looked slightly alarmed.  
  
"Well, there's not much else teh tell, really." The crowd sighed in  
  
disappointment. Jack waved a hand at them. "Don't worry, mates. I've got more  
  
tales where that comes from. Tell ye tomorrow, eh?" A few men cheered, raising  
  
their mugs in salute, then the crowd dispersed, except for a few women still  
  
stubbornly clinging to Jack. He pried them loose carefully, shooing them on their  
  
way.  
  
"Go on, lassies, I'm busy now." They flounced off, giving me nasty  
  
glances that I ignored: my eyes were full of Jack. He grinned and pulled out the  
  
seat next to him.  
  
"Have a seat, love. Now tell me," his eyes narrowed as I sat down beside  
  
him, "Did ye find it?" For an answer, I dug a large sapphire out of my pocket  
  
and handed it to him under the table. He smiled roguishly as he examined the  
  
gem.  
  
"I'll take that as a yes. Lovely." he murmured, handing it back to me  
  
only slightly reluctantly. "Take good care o' that." I rolled my eyes.  
  
"Of course, Jack. Gem maniac, remember?" He smirked.  
  
"'Course. So, love, what've ye been doin' with yerself this past year?  
  
'Sides plunderin' treasure coves."  
  
"Dying of boredom again, actually. But I managed to convince my parents  
  
to come back to the Caribbean for the summer, on my own this time." Jack's  
  
eyebrows went up and he scooted closer to me.  
  
"All on yer onesies, eh?" I sighed.  
  
"For now. Though," I looked up at him coquettishly, "I was hoping you'd  
  
help me fix that." Jack beamed and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me  
  
from my seat onto his lap.  
  
"Honestly, love," he breathed onto my neck, "did ye really have teh ask?"  
  
I twisted and pressed my mouth to his, effectively shutting him up for a few  
  
minutes. His hands slipped from my shoulders to my waist, fiddling with the  
  
buckle of my belt. My hands, meanwhile, were busy exploring under Jack's shirt.  
  
I shifted on his lap to get better access, which he happily gave me. Suddenly, I  
  
froze: the normally deafening tavern was deathly quiet. Jack's hands continued  
  
their ministrations for a few more moments before he noticed it too. I met his  
  
eyes, both of us befuddled, then turned to look at the rest of the tavern. Every  
  
eye in the entire establishment was riveted on us. The avid silence was broken  
  
only by a whispered, "Ten sez they goes all the way," and a faint clink of coins. I  
  
looked back at Jack, grinning ruefully. The pirate was looking a bit nonplussed at  
  
all the attention, though, I noticed, he didn't seem entirely displeased. His eyes  
  
traveled over our eager spectators, then he raised an eyebrow at me invitingly. I  
  
scowled. He sighed, a grin stealing across his face nonetheless, then stood up and  
  
pulled me to my feet alongside him.  
  
"Barkeep!" he yelled, though if he'd whispered he still would have been  
  
heard clearly.  
  
"Aye?" said the man, taking his chin from his hand.  
  
"Two rums," ordered Jack, then he looked dubiously around at the  
  
captivated crowd. ".to go," he added. There was a collective groan from the  
  
audience and a muttered, "Damn," from somewhere near the back. The barkeep  
  
set two bottles on the bar that were promptly snatched up by Jack. He flipped a  
  
coin to the man with a cheery, "Ta!" then turned to me with a rum in each hand  
  
and a grin on his face.  
  
"Back to the Pearl then, love?" A smile stole across my lips as I took the  
  
pirate's proffered arm.  
  
"Aye, Captain." We sauntered out of the tavern, still aware of being  
  
followed by many hopeful eyes. Jack paused thoughtfully on the doorstep, then  
  
turned to the crowd. Tipping his hat, he swept an elaborate bow to the assembly.  
  
"Well, ladies and gents, I think we'll call this an evenin'. Hope you  
  
enjoyed the show. G'night!" There was a moment of silence, then a rousing, if  
  
somewhat drunken, cheer rose from the patrons. Jack flashed them a golden grin,  
  
then swaggered jauntily away into the night, with me laughing hysterically on  
  
his shoulder. 


End file.
